


Passenger Seat

by sakuranomi808



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuranomi808/pseuds/sakuranomi808
Summary: Sam and Dean reunite in heaven in the best way. Spoilers for 5x20.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 221





	Passenger Seat

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little fic I wrote to cheer myself up after the finale. it's literally been 5 years since I've written, so bear with me as I try to find my groove :)

“Time is different here,” Bobby had said, and Dean wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. 

He did know that any amount of time driving around without Sam beside him in the passenger seat was too long. Dean also knew that he had about a million questions for his brother: for starters, whether he went and recklessly got himself killed on the very next hunt or if he died an old man, warm in his bed at the ripe old age of 80. But there’d be plenty of time for all of that -- time for conversations and for catching up, for hopefully picking up right where they’d left off. 

When Dean slid into the driver’s seat and Sam settled down beside him though, it was inexplicably awkward, an uneasy silence stretching between them. Before Dean could say a word, Sam was practically in his lap, lips latched onto the side of his neck and hands tearing at Dean’s clothes. 

“Sammy,” Dean breathed as he turned to look at his little brother. He looked the same -- exactly as he remembered him, in fact -- but there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. 

“Thirty years,” Sam murmured, looking away briefly as a tear escaped one corner of his eye. 

Dean’s heart twisted hard in his chest at the thought of his brother living all those years without him. He had thought Sam could find happiness, could live the apple pie life he’d dreamed of once upon a time, but the look on Sam’s face betrayed him, told a story of just how wrong Dean had been.

“Come here,” Dean growled, a little more forcefully than he’d intended. Sam didn’t seem to mind. He threw one leg over Dean’s hips to straddle his lap and smashed their mouths together, all lips and teeth and tongue, panting and desperate. Dean reached up to thread his fingers through Sam’s hair and thrust his tongue deep between Sam’s lips, wordlessly slowing their frantic pace, dipping in once, twice, three times, licking purposefully over Sam’s lips before pulling away with a soft gasp. “Tell me what you need,” Dean whispered, his eyes coming up to search Sam’s. 

“Just need to be close to you,” Sam said. It brought back a flood of memories: of all the close calls, the hunts that could’ve gone wrong and the ones that actually did; and how desperately they both needed to find reassurance and safety in one another over and over again. 

Dean nodded and slid his hands down Sam’s chest, lifting his shirt and pausing for just a beat with his hands on Sam’s belt buckle. “This okay?” he asked, unexplainably hesitant just like he had been that first time a few dozen lifetimes ago, when he was a fumbling seventeen year old and Sam was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Yeah,” Sam grinned. “Yes… please.” 

Dean chuckled softly, resisting the urge to tease his little brother as he swiftly unbuckled and unzipped, pushing at the waist of Sam’s boxer briefs as Sam hiked his shirts up under his armpits. He was so hard already -- they both were -- and Dean didn’t waste any time in thumbing over Sam’s swollen, leaking tip, swirling the slippery-wet moisture down his straining length. He barely noticed Sam undoing his jeans as well, until he felt his brother’s hands on his own, stilling his movements for just a split second so that he could interlace their fingers and wrap their joined hands around them both. 

Sam leaned forward again to rest his forehead against Dean’s, his breaths soft and moist as he panted quietly with pleasure. Dean’s own voice caught in his throat and he choked on a moan as Sam suddenly squeezed hard, guiding their hands to move harder, faster, more purposefully. He could feel every inch of his brother’s dick sliding wonderfully against his own, sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine. 

Dean opened his eyes and glanced down between them, groaning softly at the entirely obscene sight of their fingers threaded together, hands working perfectly in tandem to slide over their hard, leaking cocks. Sam dipped down for another kiss then, panting against Dean’s lips for a few moments before abruptly tearing away. 

They came within moments of one another, Sam’s cock swelling and spilling as his body stilled and his hand went slack. Dean continued to squeeze and stroke for both of them, pushing himself over the edge as well, painting both of their bare stomachs as his orgasm ripped through him. 

It was quiet then -- so quiet that Dean could hear the water far below them flowing gently over the river rocks as it passed beneath the bridge. He blinked his eyes open and looked up to find Sam already staring intently at him. 

“Hey,” Sam whispered. “I really missed you.” 

“Me too, Sammy,” Dean replied with a small grin.


End file.
